


In Which History Repeats Itself

by cloudfromffvii



Category: Naruto
Genre: Assassination attempts, Childhood Trauma, Flashbacks, Gen, PTSD, autistic characters, im also sorry shikadai, im so sorry gaara i dont mean to project constantly lmao, psychotic gaara
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-17
Updated: 2016-09-17
Packaged: 2018-08-15 12:40:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8056798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cloudfromffvii/pseuds/cloudfromffvii
Summary: After the Sand Council is flushed of conspirators, those of the Kazekage bloodline can rest easy. But when the leaders of a movement are taken in, often times their followers will step up to continue the job.Not one assassination attempt against Gaara has succeeded. Someone decides that maybe they need to start aiming at the next in line.





	In Which History Repeats Itself

**Author's Note:**

> i have a lot of feelings about shikadai becoming the next kazekage basically. i also have a lot of feelings about shikadai and his uncles.
> 
> apologies for the rushed writing at the end, i'm still getting back into the swing of writing. i'm also still very new to nardo as a fandom so.

She could feel the hair standing up on the back of her neck as she and her brother maintained eye-contact. Temari was searching his dark eyes in vain to try and find some inkling, some glisten of a joke. Normally she’d brush something like this off and laugh and threaten to punch him in the dick if he ever dared joke about anything like this again, but something in the way Kankurō was holding himself and frowning at her tensely told her this was no such prank in poor taste.

“And your informant is _absolutely_ sure.”

The man gave a nod and a rough grunt, clenching and unclenching his left fist anxiously. The glances he threw over his shoulder were more of a nervous habit than actual caution. “Temi, this isn’t really a situation that I’m gonna nitpick that sort of shit.”

“He’s not just yanking your strings?” 

“Temari, I’m not going to send just any damn joker into their meetings,” he growled, bringing his hands up and almost rubbing his palms over his face. Another unfortunate habit- one he had to keep careful tabs on lest he smudge the wax paint all over his face. His sister bristled at his tone and he sighed. He knew she was just trying to keep herself level. “Either way, I’d rather investigate this further and make a fool of the both of us than assume there’s nothing to worry about, you know?”

The blonde hesitated, before nodding and gritting her teeth hard as she drew a slow breath in through her nose. “That explains why they were so insistent I be on the that mission they jacked up to the Land of Waves. I was hoping that once a totally new set of officials were elected to the Council things would have changed a _bit_.”

“Yeah, except that the when the leaders of a group get taken in, their underlings tend to get pissed, yknow? I’m not surprised at all that some of them might have wormed their way into the Council to replace their top dogs.”

Temari clapped her hands together, before hitching her fan up onto her shoulder. “I’m going to go speak with Gaara about this. I want an eye kept on _every Iwagakure shinobi_  within the village borders from now, you got it?” Of course they’d be seeking help from Iwa. What better way to throw suspicion off themselves.

“Already way ahead of you on that,” the middle sibling assured her, turning on his heel and placing a hand on the rail that lined the edge of the cliff overseeing the majority of Sunagakure. A cursory glance over his shoulder and the pair of them shared a silent nod, before Kankurō vaulted himself over it and down into the marketplace below. Temari instead made her way straight back into the main building of the Kage estate, to find and inform her youngest sibling of the current goings on within their Council.

-

Temari’s voice cut through the quiet almost before Gaara shut the door behind themself. “If you’re not going to get me out of this mission, you need to be by my boy’s side every waking damn moment, Gaara.”

“That’s not going to happen,” the Kazekage explained calmly. They brought up a hand to try and silence her while they spoke further, but the worried mother clearly wasn’t having it. The scowl darkening her face would have made lesser opponents tremble in sandals, but Gaara just sighed and closed their eyes as she snapped at them.

“What do you _mean_  'that’s not going to happen'? This is my _son_ we’re talking about!”

“Temari-”

“You can’t expect me to allow you to just fucking sit by and-”

“ _Temari_.” Their sister stopped mid-sentence as Gaara raised their voice, faltering back to just glowering impatiently. They couldn’t blame her for her reaction, but her helpless anger wasn’t going to do any favours to the situation in the slightest. She took a shaky breath as Gaara continued, their volume lowering again. “Let me talk.”

“I- I’m sorry. I’m just, I’m scared-”

“I understand.” Gaara folded their arms, closing the distance between them and standing directly in front of their sister. Of course they did. They understood better than anyone; Gaara themself had been subject to _far too many_ assassination attempts since his childhood. The death of their siblings’ father hadn’t done a damn thing to change that, considering how unsupportive the Sand Council had been of the very _idea_  of Gaara becoming the Kazekage.

After the murder of Rasa, the Council had decided that the position of Kage should be passed down through his bloodline, the colloquially named Kazekage Clan. Of course, they’d always had Kankurō in mind for the position, a decision that had proven appropriate as he rose through military ranks. What they _hadn’t_  counted on was Kankurō refusing the position. Their fallback, Temari, had refused the offer before they’d even officially extended it to her. And although the blood relation wasn’t there, that left a single heir to the position of Kazekage.

Combining that with their determination and their siblings vouching for them, there wasn’t much that the Council could do after publicly announcing their plans. As far as it mattered politically, Gaara _was_ Rasa’s child, and much to the Council’s chagrin, the title went to the then-jinchūriki.

“I’m not going to escort Shikadai at all times,” Gaara explained, lowering their voice further as they spoke. “It’ll be suspicious if I suddenly won’t leave my nephew’s side, and it’s simply unrealistic to expect me to be with him around the clock. But that doesn’t mean I can’t shadow him.” Temari let out a shaky sigh and nodded, the adrenaline that had been coursing through her finally beginning to die down. “Have you informed Shikamaru of what’s going on?”

“Not yet, Kankurō told me about what the Council has in mind maybe ten minutes ago or something?” Gaara nodded. That explained why the wound was so fresh. “Not like he can do shit, he’s not due to visit the Sand again for weeks and it’ll take him days to get here.”

“Alright.” They reached out a hand and touched their sister’s shoulder, squeezing gently before turning their head toward the door slightly. “Don’t tell Shikadai. There’s no need to worry him with all of this; it’ll just make our job harder.” For a moment, the blonde woman looked like she was about to argue, but when her sibling turned their head back and their eyes met, all she could do was close her mouth and clench her jaw hard. “Go on your mission. You’re probably right in thinking that it’s just to get you out of the village. But I think at this point, it’s safest to avoid suspicion as much as possible.”

“Right. Don’t let ‘em know we know anything.”

“That could put us in a very dangerous position.” Before Gaara could get another word out, Temari’s strong arms were around them and hugging them tight. The breath caught in their throat at the sudden physical contact, and if it were anyone else, they’d probably have recoiled immediately. Their sister completely ignored the momentary sound of shifting sand and the tenseness in her sibling’s muscles, letting her chin rest on Gaara’s shoulder.

“Please keep my boy safe.”

Skinny hands came to rest on their sister’s back, and for a few moments the pair of them stood there together. But that was all the Kazekage could stand, and they carefully untangled themself from the embrace and cleared their throat. “You don’t have to worry about that, Temari. I’m not going to let anything happen to him. Now, you’d best go and prepare for your task.”

Finally cracking a smile, Temari nodded and made her way out of the room. She missed the scowl cutting through Gaara’s normally blank features, the anger bubbling just under the surface that they’d spent so long beating down and locking away. To target Gaara was one thing, but to target _their sister’s child_ was something they weren’t going to let slide.

-

“When’re you heading back to the leaf again?”

“In a month,” the boy answered, not bothering to look up from his handheld. There was a lot of criticism from his teachers and peers about Shikadai’s hyperfocus on his games, but his uncle didn’t really see the problem- as long as he was able to acknowledge what was going on around him when it counted, Kankurō didn’t really give a shit. And damn, was that kid’s skill with those stupid rhythm games impressive. Kankurō’s reflexes went out the window with videogames. “I’m still on duty in Suna for the next two weeks and mama wanted me to wait for dad to visit for whatever so I can travel back with him. I have stuff to do with the rest of my team. Like, training and stuff I guess. Boring stuff.”

“Haha, sucks to be you then.” Fuck, the boy’d grown up so fast. He hadn’t hit chūnin until he was fourteen, last year, but he hadn’t exactly been giving it his all before then. When he had passed the exam and moved up the rank, Gaara had unwisely voiced their opinion that it might have been a fluke (Kankurō had assumed it was _probably_ a joke) which copped them flack from Temari for days following. “Nah, but seriously. Good on you for doing this shit. Not many people’ll do the occasional mission for another village, let alone regularly. Guess you do take after Temi in some way after all.”

Shikadai grunted with a tiny, poorly hidden smile, putting his handheld down on the cafeteria table. The boy continued to tap buttons deftly with his right hand as he felt out his chopsticks and picked up a slice of fish with his left. His attention may have been focused on his rhythm game, but not much from his surroundings escaped him and he paused with his thumb as he looked up with a mouthful of salmon

“Uncle, why are you so nervous?”

The man hesitated, rubbing a hand against the back of his neck through his hood. “Kid, how do you even figure that out. You’re not even _looking_ at me.”

“You clench your hands when you’re nervous,” he stated plainly after he swallowed his mouthful; he could hear his mother’s voice over his shoulder chiding him for speaking with food in his mouth and almost flinched. “And you keep jumping topics so fast I can barely keep up. Also, looking around like mama’s gonna catch you slacking off on housework. But worse.”

“Ah.” Kankurō brought his hand back down, resting an elbow on the table to support his head with his hand. “Well, anyway. You know I’d just tell you straight up, right? If I haven’t told you what’s up, it means I can’t. Important political bullshit probably, y’know?” Shikadai nodded and sighed quietly, returning to his game. “Just means it ain’t anything you need to worry about.”

“If you’re sure.”

“The price of being important, I guess.” That got a small chuckle out of the teenager, and thought he feigned offense, it made the man smile inwardly. It warmed him to see that kid having a good time, even though Shikadai couldn’t express it openly very well, or very often. That just made it even better when he did get to see it. “Don’t laugh at me. Your manners are absolute shit, you know that?”

“Blame my role models.”

Kankurō snorted, Shikadai smiled again and chose another song to play through in his game. If Temari were here, she wouldn’t have even had the chance to tell him off for playing games at the table (in public no less) because the boy wouldn’t have dared. His mother and his uncles all had different ideas as to what constituted ‘good manners’, and he’d decided long ago that Uncle Kankurō’s lax definition was his favourite.

Lunch was pretty uneventful, all things considered. Shikadai could still see his uncle’s nervousness out the corner of his eye as he played his game; he didn’t know what anxiety felt like coming from other people, but rote learning (and a _lot_ of help from Inojin and Chōchō both) had saved his ass in learning to read and memorise the body language habits of those close to him. Kankurō’s disposition had put the boy a little on edge, and he still seemed to be on the lookout for something even as they left the village cafeteria. But he trusted his uncle- if the man said there was nothing to worry about, then there was nothing to worry about.

He thanked his uncle for paying for his food, and Kankurō just waved it off, placing a hand on Shikadai’s shoulder for a moment. “Don’t mention it, little man. _Someone’s_ gotta spoil you if your mother ain’t doing it, right?” He couldn’t ruffle his nephew’s hair while he had it up in its traditional ponytail, but it was a habit he’d had to grow out of anyway considering just how quickly Shikadai was catching up to him in height. “And that’s why I’m your favourite, right?”

“Amongst other reasons, yeah.”

The man smiled, giving the boy a firm pat on the back. “Anyway, I’ve got shit to sort out with Gaara at the Kage Estate, so I’m gonna have to split. It was good catching up with you though, kiddo. You gonna be alright?”

“Of course I am, uncle.” Shikadai raised his eyebrows. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“- You know if I didn’t ask that your mother would _know_ and I’d cop hell for it.”

Shikadai didn’t smile and laugh as openly with anyone as much as he did with Kankurō, and the man was a firm believer in sticking with your strengths. Not to mention he was pretty fucking proud of that save. With that, Kankurō was on his way through the market, waving back over his shoulder before disappearing into the bustle of the afternoon meal rush.

Shoving his hands into his pockets, the young Nara started off in the other direction. Any time spent with his uncles was time well spent, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that something felt off. He was probably just overthinking everything. And imagining those eyes that he could feel on the back of his head.

-

“My uncles have been acting weird,” the boy complained, lying back on his friend’s couch. He had his arms stretched out with his handheld hovering over his face, lazily playing some non-descript RPG with creature capture mechanics. Nana was playing the same game, and didn’t bother to look up from her screen from where she was, nestled between the couch and the coffee table. She didn’t really answer, either- just gave a curious grunt, inviting him to continue. “I dunno. Ever since mama left on her mission, they’ve been acting _weird_. Kankurō’s been off every time we’ve hung out, like he thinks someone’s following him.”

“Is someone following him?”

Shikadai glanced toward her out of the corner of his eyes. His friend still hadn’t looked up from her game, but her head had turned toward him slightly so he knew her attention had drifted to him. “I don’t know, I haven’t _seen_ anyone following him. But I’ve started feeling like someone’s following me, too.”

“My mum says that that sort of stuff is catching,” she offered, flicking her eyes up from the turn-based battle she’d gotten herself into and turning a bit to face the younger boy. “Thinking you see people and stuff. Maybe it’s just that? Maybe your uncle’s just going crazy.”

“Wrong uncle,” Shikadai sighed, pausing his game and sitting himself up. “But uncle Gaara’s been acting strange too. I mean, stranger than usual. I keep thinking I see them around but, they’re never actually there.”

“Maybe the Lord Fifth is the one following you,” Nana grinned, putting her handheld game down on the coffee table and twisting around to fold her arms on the couch cushion she’d been leaning against. The Nara boy rolled his eyes and reached out, pushing his palm flat against her forehead. “They’re probably just worried about you, not having your mum until she comes back?”

“You’re such a dork. I only see her every couple of months anyway so that can’t be it.”

“Anyway, seriously, if you think someone’s following you for real, shouldn’t you tell one of your uncles? Especially if it’s not going away… Have you mentioned it to them?”

“No. It’s only been a couple of days, it’s probably just an overreaction.” Shikadai turned himself and slid off the couch, scrunching himself up between the coffee table and the couch next to his friend. He was a lot taller than she was, hunched over with his knees against his chest while she slouched down, moving her legs to hook her knees over the edge of the coffee table. “Either way, you wanna battle?”

The next hour or so, Shikadai and Nana spent their time battling each other with the little creatures that they’d captured in their respective games, only broken up by Nana’s mother coming into the lounge twice; once to tell Nana off for having her feet on the table and lamenting how strange the pair of them were for preferring to sit against the couch rather than on it, and again to ask if Shikadai was staying for dinner. Which he did.

She’d also asked if he was staying the night, but the sun had set several hours ago and honestly, Shikadai wasn’t entirely sure how either of his uncles would react to him staying out without informing them with how they’d been acting since Temari left. So he politely declined, and after another half hour of gaming with his friend, Nana walked him out to the edge of her property.

“You look after yourself, okay?” she pressed, and he nodded nonchalantly as he pulled his jacket on. He used to get teased for the Nara symbol proudly stitched into the back but that was back in his early academy days. “Get home safe and flick me a message when you get there, maybe.”

“Sure thing, Nana. Goodnight.”

The residential district was fairly well-lit by fairly new street lamps lining the main street; light pollution wasn’t really a problem in Suna, and many still thought that the moonlight sufficed on all but stormy nights. Getting back to his mother’s house was a fairly straightforward affair, but a few houses from Nana’s house Shikadai began to sense those eyes on the back of his head again. A cold, scary feeling creeping up his back and neck, a feeling he was used to out in the desert and trekking through the forest but not within the walls of a village. Especially not a village so late at night, with the streets deserted.

Dropping his shoulders and doing his best to stay casual, the boy quietly found himself wandering into a side street, where the lights didn’t quite reach and the shadows stretched long and dark around him. There were advantages to both routes he could take, but by the very nature of the type of shinobi he was, he felt more at home shrouded from light. And for a few moments, he felt that awful stare lift.

The relief was short lived.

He did his best not to hurry his steps as he strayed from alley to alley. Something was moving in the shadows around him- or maybe it was more than one, he couldn’t tell- and the panic was beginning to rise in his throat the longer he took to get back to his mother’s house. He couldn’t just dart back into the main street now; the lights lining either side would put him at a distinct disadvantage if he ended up in the middle of the street. Sure, his shadow would stretch both ways, but when standing in the light, shadows grow darker and he wasn’t a particularly skilled chakra sensor.

Shikadai’s mind was racing, bringing up scenarios at a mile a minute and fumbling to figure out countermeasures to them twice as fast. Sweat was beginning to bead at his hairline and he was having trouble keeping his eyes to the ground. Logic told him to rely on his ears but that was hard to do when he kept straining his eyes make sense of the shapes swirling around him in the dark. The panic was beginning to make his skin feel hot, he was far too aware of his clothes, his brain was moving way too fast.

_Calm down and keep walking, take each thought one at a time, everything’s going to be okay if I just keep walking…_

A sensory overload was the last thing he needed right now. Turning another corner, he chanced to pause and take in a deep breath, wiping the sweat off his shaking hands on his shirt.

Something crunched and he froze. Everything around him seemed to freeze as well. All he could hear was his heartbeat pounding in his ears.

Another noise, and everything was thrown into fast forward.

The boy swung around on his heel, clasping his hands together tightly and sending his shadow out in front of him to where the noise had come from. There was a figure somewhere before him but he couldn’t seem to find a place to connect- and suddenly his shadow was snapped back under him as his hands were forced apart. It took a moment to register both the pain in his wrist, and the fact that his arm was pinned to the wall by a kunai, through his shirt and cutting into his wrist.

As the sting laced up his arm, strategy after strategy simply fled from his brain, his senses spiking along with the adrenaline and fear pulsing through him. The only think Shikadai could think of to do now was bring his arm up to defend himself.

-

It wasn’t often that Gaara was the last to leave the Kage Estate, but the halls had been empty and already dark when they flicked off the office lights and began his walk home. The marketplace and the main street were both pleasantly empty. Not that they didn’t _like_ the occasional idle chatter on their walks, but they had a budding headache from late night paperwork, not at all helped by the other situation at hand.

Gaara was a naturally anxious person. But the leaden pool that had been resting in the pit of their stomach the last few days was something they hadn’t felt in a _long_ time. Not since the Sand Council had been turned over with an entirely new set of officials.

Fortunately, they were no stranger to a lack of sleep, so standing vigil over their sister’s child hadn’t taken any extra effort on their part. They caught naps whenever Kankurō was available and awake, and during work whenever there was no one around to nag them. Activity in the Sand hadn’t changed since Temari left, but that just added more weight to the sick terror in his torso.

_Where Shukaku used to be._

**_Where I used to be._ **

Taking in a sharp breath, Gaara shook their head. Not the time. Not the time. Now of all times, they needed a clear head. They just needed to get home and make sure Shikadai was still safe, and maybe talk about a strategy change with Kankurō regarding finding any would-be assassins. Yes. Having a plan of action was good. Gaara nodded to themself as they continued walking down the main street of the marketplace, toward the residential district.

What little peace of mind they’d restored for themselves was short lived, however. Something was moving in the darkness in the side streets, and whatever it was, it didn’t feel friendly.

The next left turn available, Gaara slipped themself into the alley silently and began to follow whatever was wandering around. There were footsteps (were there one pair or two?) shuffling around in the darkness- and seemingly out of nowhere, a cold feeling started lacing up their spine. There was some distant familiarity that they couldn’t seem to shake, and though it was slight, it felt like it was creeping into the rest of their thoughts.

What was there to recognise? They’d lived in the Hidden Sand their entire life. Of course this was familiar! What was biting at their nerves so bad?

Gaara’s line of thought was cut short as they caught a glimpse of someone- Shikadai?- heading into another side street. Their first instinct was to rush over to him, demand what the hell he was doing hiding out in the dark alleys this late at night, but that other presence was still there somewhere and though perilous, they could use this situation to draw it out.

Maybe it was the assassin, finally showing his face.

And if that were the case, then Gaara making an appearance would just push him back into the shadows to wait until Shikadai was alone again. Weighing up the risks in their head, they quickly decided which was worth the danger, and began to follow their nephew.

Shikadai looked like he was beginning to panic before long, starting to look around himself and stare at the shadows. He didn’t seem to have spotted his uncle yet- but it did look like he’d spotted _something_ as he paused. And then, almost faster than Gaara could keep up with, everything was thrown into motion. Shikadai spun, performing one of his Leaf clan’s jutsu, before a kunai shot out of the darkness and pinned him in place.

The moment the weapon hit the wall and pinned the boy, the horrible cold feeling that had been gripping the Kazekage’s spine like a vice shot down through their limbs and into the back of their neck like frozen lightning.

Where their nephew was standing, now all they saw was their uncle, crumpled on the ground against the wall with paper bombs plastered to his chest and belly. A broken, bleeding Yashamaru staring up at him, struggling to breathe through the fluid pooling in his lungs. Telling them that he never cared, Karura never cared, that Gaara would never be cared for and that they’d be better off dead for the sake of the entirety of Sunagakure.

Frozen and space and clouded in memories, all the Kazekage could do was stare and watch the scene play out before their eyes. Yashamaru staring up at them, blood dribbling down his chin and soaking his outfit, replaying that final whisper over and over.

" _This is it. Please die.”_

They were six again and the paper bombs ignited; Yashamaru’s body went up in an eruption of flame, the sand from the gourd strapped to Gaara’s hip immediately spilling out and moving to encircle and shield them as they cried out, throwing their hands up in front of their face and stumbling backward.

Except the sand _wasn’t_ shielding them from any sort of explosion. Their mother’s will had taken form, escaping its casing and flowing out with a gentle (but urgent) hissing sound to shelter their nephew where he was pinned against the wall. More sand poured out, almost bubbling from the small neck of the gourd, beginning to catch the unfortunate Iwagakure assassin in his place. All at once, the present came rushing back to the former jinchūriki and they were suddenly aware and focused on the actual situation at hand.

They heard Shikadai whimpering, and they could feel their blood begin to boil. Gritting their teeth and planting their feet firmly on the ground, Gaara snapped their attention to the poor bastard currently being swarmed with warm, dark-golden sand. He was already begging, but Karura’s will was already beginning to gather around his mouth and stifling his voice.

**_Do it._ **

The muscles in the redhead’s arms and hands were tense as he watched the cluster of sand begin to pile around itself; fingertips twitching and teeth bared. That cold terror from before the encounter had melted away, and in its place was a molten black lump of absolute _hatred_ that Gaara hadn’t felt for a long time. Reaching out a well practiced hand toward their nephew’s assailant, those pale eyes locked onto their target with their fingers outstretched.

Muscle memory was a powerful thing.

The command was on the very tip of their tongue, and the corner of Gaara’s lips quirked up as they imagined the pleas this Iwa shinobi would have been spilling if he’d had the breath to do it. The only thing on their mind at that second was protecting Shikadai, protecting the boy their sister had devoted so much of her life to, the boy that meant the world to everyone in the Kazekage bloodline.

Nothing from Gaara’s past would _ever_ befall Shikadai.

And then the soulless voice in the back of their head spoke again.

 **_Do it, Gaara._ **  
**_Show them what you’re still made of.  
Remind the Village Hidden in the Sand that they would do well to fear you._ **

Their blood ran cold again.

No.

Not again.

Gaara grit their teeth again, bringing their hand down sharply and watching as the sand followed the action, gathering around the assassin’s waist and legs instead. Raising the other hand, they finally clenched their fist so hard it shook, muffling the scream as the sand crushed both legs of their assailant and then finally dropping them to the ground like a discarded doll. Once his head hit the ground, his voice was not a problem; the concussion would have silenced him if the sheer pain of his fractured limbs hadn’t caused him to pass out.

Now, however, the opposing ninja was the least of the Kazekage’s worry. Now that the threat was handled (if not eliminated), the wall of sand surrounding Shikadai had fallen and was quietly making its way back into its gourd. Rushing to their nephew, Gaara ripped the kunai from the wall and immediately pulled the boy into their arms, holding him close as he began to cry.

The pair of them knelt there for a few minutes, the Nara boy curled up against his younger uncle and sobbing quietly into his jacket. It wasn’t long until Kankurō had turned up along with another two police-nin in tow. His subordinates took care of the unconscious Iwa ninja crumpled on the ground while Kankurō himself stood over his family and watched them take the bastard toward the hospital.

“Hey kid, kiddo, it’s okay,” he soothed once the assailant was gone, crouching down and putting his hand on Shikadai’s back. Fortunately, his nephew’s meltdowns were nothing like Gaara’s, and weren’t all that much like his father’s either; Gaara couldn’t stand to be held or touched and would lash out at anyone that did, while Shikamaru would just shut down and lock everyone out. The way Shikadai dealt, however, was by curling into the nearest living thing and just, staying put and crying until there was nothing left. “You’re safe now, we’ve got you.”

One look at his sibling told Kankurō that he wouldn’t be getting any information out of him right this second. Separating the pair of them didn’t seem to be much of an option either, so instead the puppeteer simply continued crouching beside them both, a hand on his nephew’s back as he sobbed and and his attention on the streets around them.

He was actually pretty impressed that no one else seemed to have been roused but he certainly wasn’t complaining.

-

“Hey short stuff, drink up.”

Shikadai didn’t raise his eyes from his game as his uncle motioned to the warm drink that was sitting in front of him on the tabletop, barely acknowledging the movement in the corner of his vision for a minute or two. But he paused his game once the song was done, reaching out and taking a sip from his now lukewarm coffee. He made a face, and Kankurō laughed.

“I’m almost as tall as you,” he responded flatly, and Kankurō rolled his eyes. His uncle had forgone the facepaint today; it was weird and almost uncomfortable to see his bronze cheeks free of the customary thick purple lines. But he was smiling, and that put Shikadai a little more at ease. More at ease than he had been since his mother had left Suna.

She was due back today, wasn’t she?

It wasn’t often that things got awkward between Kankurō and his favourite (only) nephew, but sitting at the table together, he was kind of at a loss for words. Shikadai had barely spoken to anyone once they’d gotten him home, and had done nothing but play his shitty rhythm game non stop. Not that either of his uncles blamed him- a personal attempt on your life wasn’t something people tended to brush off.

He hated seeing the kid so anxious, and as much as he wanted to find humour in the irony of Shikadai jumping at shadows, all he could do was try and find little ways to calm the kid down.

Gaara closing everyone out again hadn’t exactly done them any favours either, but he still wasn't sure if he wanted to ask.

“... I’m sorry about not coming clean about that shit, Shika,” the man finally muttered, folding his arms on the table. Again, Shikadai didn’t look up but he did give a little shrug of his shoulders. It was uncomfortable, but it was a conversation Kankurō knew had to happen at some point. “I was trying to look out for you, and Gaara didn’t think it was a good idea to tell you so, y’know.”

“I understand.”

“But yeah. I uh, I think we both realise that wasn’t the best thing to do in the situation. And you deserved better from us.” The awkward way the man’s sentences came out, and the pauses as he tried to pick his words, were a good indicator of just how often Kankurō apologised for his actions, but that didn’t really occur to Shikadai. He did look up from his game though, finally.

“Thanks, uncle,” he mumbled, taking another mouthful of his near-cold coffee. “But.. I think I’d rather just not talk about it right now. And. I’d like to be alone, just for a little bit.”

Kankurō nodded. “Sure thing. Did you want me to walk you to Nana’s before I go meet Temi at the mission office later?” It had already been made clear that Shikadai couldn’t actually see her until she was done, which he understood perfectly well. There was no point in fighting it. So Shikadai just nodded, smiled just the tiniest bit, and returned to his game.

Progress.

“Good shit, kiddo. Just let me know when you’re ready.”

Might as well use Shikadai’s alone time to get himself ready for the interrogation. Kankurō made his way down the hallway and up the stairs, but instead of beelining to his own room, he paused outside that of his younger sibling and knocked on the door. He didn’t need to wait for an answer, he could hear the quiet shifting of sand away from the doorway. As he opened it, he found Gaara sitting on the edge of their bed, with the last of the sand sifting itself back into the narrow neck of the gourd sitting on the dresser. The Kazekage didn’t meet their brother’s eyes as he crossed the room, nor respond when he sat next to him on their bed.

He thought about putting an arm around them, or at least on their shoulder, but he thought better of it and decided to just clear his throat. Gaara finally raised their head, looking toward their brother without actually focussing on him. Kankurō frowned a little.

“Talk to me, Gaara.”

“He spoke to me,” the younger sibling murmured, dropping their eyes toward the floor again. Their brother was quiet. “He spoke to me _again_.”

“He’s not there anymore, Gaara. You gotta reme-”

“I _know_ he’s not there. It’s not exactly something I can forget.”

Kankurō hadn’t really been prepared for Gaara to raise their voice, and apparently, neither was Gaara. The former jinchūriki swallowed, bit their lip, and turned away a little. Muscles tensed under the warm hand that came to rest on their shoulder, but they didn’t shrug the older man away and they didn’t recoil.

“Sorry, Gaara. I know I’m completely talking out my ass whenever this shit comes up.”

“It’s fine,” the redhead offered, shaking his head and finally looking up at their brother’s face. “I just. I was going to _kill_  that shinobi, Kankurō. Shukaku's voice was there, and I was seeing things that weren’t there, I was six again and I had no idea what was going on-”

Gaara’s voice had started speeding up as he spoke, and they only stopped when they’d stumbled over their own words. They’d meant to continue on to explain the flashback, to explain that they’d seen their uncle’s last seconds again (like they had so many times before in bed, in the office, on walks through the village), but they tripped on the thought and Kankurō just sighed, offering his arms.

After a few seconds, Gaara took the offer and leaned into their brother, accepting the hug and resting their face against his shoulder.

“You don’t have to tell me anything, Gaara,” Kankurō soothed, giving his sibling a light squeeze before releasing him again. Honestly, the younger sibling probably could have dealt with more but the last thing that Kankurō wanted to do was overdo the tactile stimulation. Gaara was having a rough time as it was. “The important part is that _you didn’t do it_.”

The two siblings sat there in silence beyond that for a good few minutes together. The pair of them had their work cut out for them once they got themselves ready and headed out to the Estate; interrogations weren’t exactly Kankurō’s specialty and interaction of any sort was definitely not Gaara’s, but gods be damned if either of them were leaving without all of the information they could squeeze out of the incapacitated ninja now that he’d recovered somewhat. The quicker they could weed out the dangerous Council members, the better.

And for the Iwa-nin’s sake, part of Kankurō hoped that the interrogation session was over before Temari had finished her bogus mission’s paperwork.


End file.
